


The Tale of the Returning Knight

by ConanDoylesCarnations



Category: Arthurian Mythology & Related Fandoms, Le Morte d'Arthur - Thomas Malory, ish - Fandom
Genre: Gawain's secretly in love with Lancelot, Hurt/Comfort, Lancelot is crippled by perfectionism, M/M, Marie de France, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, idk I'll add more - Freeform, it rhymeeeessss, may not even realise it himself, some little medieval nods for the nerds, verse, very loosely inspired by Chretien de Troyes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:33:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27684962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConanDoylesCarnations/pseuds/ConanDoylesCarnations
Summary: PROEM:After a very long twelvemonth awaySir Launce to Camelot returns again.Gawain has waited tensely for the day:The fair knight's absence brought him awful pain.But what is wrong with Lancelot du Lac?He seems a-changèd since he has been back...
Relationships: Gawain & Lancelot du Lac (Arthurian)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	The Tale of the Returning Knight

The figure in the valley could  
Have been none other than the good  
Sir Lancèlot du Lac. ’Twas not  
Merely his armour, though ’twas wrought  
From metal of a rare blue tint  
And gleamed resplendent. And the hint  
Was not that he was ’specially tall:  
He was well-built, but that was all.  
No: ’twas something in the way  
He held himself. One could not say  
Just what it was –- all that one knew  
Was if one put that armour blue  
On someone of an equal frame,  
And gave them horse and shield the same,  
One still could never them mistake  
For brave Sir Lancelot du Lake.  
They never could that look possess  
Of power with a gentleness  
That meant that only with remorse  
Would the possessor take to force -–  
Yet once they did, oh, woe betide  
The villain that had shown such pride.

Gawain at Lancelot gazed in awe,  
As oft he did when he felt sure  
His roaming looks would not be seen.  
But through the yellow gorse and green,  
And heather that in purple bathes  
The hillside like a prince’s swathes,  
Drew Lancelot now nearer still;  
And thus to Gawain did the hill,  
As backdrop to that handsome knight,  
Appear a beauty far more bright  
Than it had ever seemed before.  
And I am told –- the teller swore –-  
The closer Lancelot came to greet  
Gawain, so much the quicker beat  
The watcher’s heart –- the same as e’er.  
At last Sir Lancelot did bare  
His face, lifting his visor back  
To call Gawain, who on the track  
Did leave his horse, and to him ran,  
That he might fast embrace the man,  
Who likewise left his horse, and then  
Gawain was in his arms again.

For that blissful moment fleeting,  
For that soul-relieving meeting,  
A year exactly had Gawain  
Waited, waited with the pain  
Of knowing Launce, where e’er he strayed,  
Himself in mortal peril laid:  
It was their life, and noble too –-  
It was the only life they knew –-  
But normally Gawain would be  
Beside him, always, watchfully,  
Lest ever there should be travail  
In which Sir Launce should finally fail.

Lancelot fail! Blessed Maria!  
What a ludicrous idea  
Now seemèd it to Gàwain, staring  
At the most strong, most just, most caring  
Knight that ever Camelot graced.

‘You’re back,’ said Gawain, flushed-faced,  
And ’Swounds, he thought, ’twould have been lame  
From one _not_ of Round Table fame.  
‘I am,’ he said, and those words crowned  
He with a laugh, that honeyed sound  
Gawain had missed so much, so long.  
‘Let’s get you home.’ -– But said he wrong? --  
Sir Lancelot did hesitate –-  
But only did a moment wait.  
He smiled again, and side by side,  
They back to Camelot did ride.


End file.
